


The Case of the Fallen Acrobats

by FleetSparrow



Series: Bruce Wayne, P.I. [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Court of Owls, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Bruce Wayne is a private investigator in one of the most corrupt cities in the U.S.:  Gotham.  When a young boy comes to him asking Bruce to solve his parents' murder, Bruce finds himself getting in over his head with an underground group that hasn't been heard from in years.





	1. The Case Begins

Gotham's a dark city, grim and gritty. It's not a city of colors, not like Metropolis, our so-called sister city. But the dark is how I like it. My name's Bruce Wayne, private investigator. I worked with the Pinkertons during the War, but after that, I made my own business. That's where I'm at now.

The kid in front of me can't be any more than twelve if he's a day. He's sitting here in my office with a bag of clothes and an honest-to-god piggy bank. He's been crying, but he's not crying in front of me. No, in fact, he's staring at me with a mix of anger and frustration in his eyes that doesn't look like it belongs there.

That might be all that belongs there now.

The boy pushes the piggy bank across the desk. It's painted like a clown.

“That's everything I got,” the boy says. “Tom Grady says you're the best in Gotham.”

“What would you know of Tom Grady?”

The boy shrugs. “He works at the circus sometimes.”

I lean back in my seat, looking over the piggy bank. “What's your name, kid?”

“Dick Grayson.” He looks at me with that same look, but it's starting to fade into sadness. “Somebody murdered my folks. Tom said you can find out who.”

“Finding a killer is worth a lot of dough,” I say. I'm breaking the kid's heart, I know it, but there's not much else to do. I don't even know who the kid belongs to. Of course, now he doesn't belong to anyone.

“That's everything I have,” Dick says, correcting his earlier grammar. “I know it's not what you usually get, but nobody else believes me. Somebody killed them and someone's gotta find out who. If you don't, I'll… I'll do it myself!”

“That's a good way to get yourself killed.”

His nostrils flared and I got the feeling I just said something he'd been thinking about.

“Hey,” I say. “Don't go doing anything you can't come back from, all right?” I take the piggy bank and put it in my bottom desk drawer. “We'll call that a down payment.”

His eyes stop tearing up. “So you'll find out? You'll find who killed my folks?”

“I'll do my best,” I say, trying not to get his hopes up. “Now where are you staying?”

Dick makes a face. “A state house. The circus had to leave and they couldn't keep me.” He looks ready to cry again. God, this kid's young.

“Then we'll get you back there,” I say, and he gives me a look that might not kill me, but certainly could do some damage. “You gotta live somewhere, kid.”

“Can I live here?”

“I can't have a kid underfoot.”

He shrinks back in his chair. I nod to his bag. “Is that everything you have?”

Dick nods. “I've got my costume and my clothes. It's all I need.”

“And I suppose you're expecting me to feed you?”

He smiles shyly. He's a good-looking kid. He'll be a heartbreaker in a few years.

“All right, you can stay here.” I go for the door to the outer office.

“Barbara,” I say to my secretary. “Get this kid something to eat, then give him something to do. My treat.”

“Aren't you feeling generous?” she says, watching as the kid all but bounces over to her side of the office. There's a waiting area, but the kid seems happy to wait with Barbara.

I hand her the money and head out the door. “Call the Gotham Gazette, see what you can find on their coverage of, uh…?” I look to the kid.

“Haley’s Circus.”

“Right. I'm going to see some men. Be back later.”

I grab my hat and overcoat and head out into the Gotham smog.


	2. The Reporter

I head first to the fairgrounds. Haley’s Circus was gone—the accidental death of two acrobats wasn’t enough to keep it in Gotham—but that didn’t mean all the clues were. I examine the ground where the big top had been, but it’s too trampled by horses, animals, and men to discover anything. I follow the patterns of stake holes in the ground to the outside of the tent, making a circle around the arena. I found a fat stogie on the ground near where the exit would’ve been. I know this brand, favored by wannabe mob bosses and heavyweight henchmen.

I pocket the cigar and headed off the grounds. The flash of a camera catches my eye, and I whip around, ready to pounce on whoever just took my picture. But they aren’t pointing the camera at me. Some squarehead and a camera jockey are just coming up on the empty fairgrounds, taking shots of the area. I decide they might know some more about what had gone down here, and, in any case, I feel like throwing around some muscle. They don’t look the Gotham type of reporter.

“Get one with the view of the bleachers. Good, Jimmy,” squarehead was saying. I came up on them silently.

“Nothing much to photograph,” I say. The camera kid jumps. The big guy turns like he had already heard me.

“It’s to compare to our photos from the performance.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” the big guy says, handing me his card. “This is Jimmy Olsen, photographer.”

I shrug off the card. “I couldn’t have guessed. Metropolis, hm?”

Kent puts the card back and shrugs his shoulders. “We were there the night it happened. You heard about the deaths?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t?” I look him over. Up close, he’s even bigger than I first thought. Bigger than me. Guy must lift trains to look like that. Odd for a reporter. I make a note of that. “What d’you know about it?”

“Two acrobats, a couple, fell to their deaths during the show,” Kent says.

“Rumors of foul play?”

“Rumors. But nothing concrete. One interesting fact. The kid’s disappeared.”

“What kid?”

“The couple’s kid. He was there during the show, then he was gone by the time police came around.”

I knew the kid had been hiding something. So, he didn’t go with his circus, and he didn’t stick around to go into a home. He knew something.

“Why’d the circus clear out so fast?”

Kent shrugs. “Rumor is pressure from the police. Of course, in Gotham, that means mob pressure. But you should know about that, Mister…?”

“Wayne.” I tap the brim of my hat. “Much obliged. Let me know if you come up with anything else.” I hand him my card. He takes it easily.

“Who are you working for?” Kent asks.

“That’s private,” I say. “Don’t worry about it and I won’t ask what Metropolis was doing in Gotham.”

I leave him with that.

Just before I leave, I find something strange. I nearly step on it before I realize what it is. A large white bird feather lays on the ground. I pick it up and look it over. It could’ve come from someone’s headgear, but something about it tells me to keep it. I put it in my coat pocket.

I have to get back to the kid and find out what he’s hiding and what he’s using me for. I always am too soft on kids.


	3. New Information

When I get back, Dick is watching Barbara file, the remnants of a chili dog on the seat beside him. I wonder what she did with my change.

“Phone’s been ringing,” she says on seeing me. “One call from the morgue. He said there was no foul play on the bodies themselves. One call from Miss Kyle; she wouldn’t leave a message. Oh, and one call from the Lieutenant.”

I grunt. Great, just what I need. Daddy calling me to check on his little girl. Lieutenant Gordon and I don’t always see eye to eye, especially when it comes to Barbara and what I am or am not paying her. Times are tough, but they don’t need to get tougher.

“So only one call to return,” I say. Barbara shakes her head.

“Dad wants you to call him back. He’s interested in this case, too.”

Another thing I don’t need. Still, help from the police is better than hindrance. Assuming help is what he’s offering.

“And your change is in your drawer. The locked one.”

I have the only key to that drawer and I have it on me at all times. Barbara may be a cop’s daughter, but she’s learned a thing or two with me.

“Kid,” I said. “Come here.”

Dick hops up from his seat and follows me into my office. I sit down and open the drawer. Sure enough, there’s my change. I put it back into my wallet as Dick sits down, swinging his legs in the too-high chair.

“So, how many lies have you told me?”

Dick snaps his gaze to me. “I haven’t told you any.”

“You weren’t put in a home. Your circus only left a day or so ago. You’re lying to me left and right. Why should I trust you?”

“Because my parents were murdered,” Dick says. “And nobody else believes me! The police aren’t gonna look into it because we’re circus folk. Somebody killed them and they’re gonna get away with it.”

“So why’d you stay? If you weren’t put in a home, why not stay at the circus?”

Dick drops his gaze. “I think whoever killed my folks meant to kill me too. I thought maybe, if I found out who, they would.”

I shake my head. “You’re nuts, kid. You can’t go killing yourself because your parents are dead. What would they think?”

Dick shrugs. “Wouldn’t they want me to be with them?”

I sigh. This kid’s more fucked up than I can deal with. But I know that feeling. I felt it myself once.

“Tell you what. You don’t go trying to kill yourself, and I’ll look for the guy who murdered your folks, OK?”

Dick nods, still not meeting my eyes.

“I said, OK, kid?”

Dick looks up, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. I’m too easy with kids.

“Come here,” I sat, holding out an arm. “Come…get a hug.”

The kid’s up in a flash, clutching me like he hasn’t held someone in a long time. I pat him on the back, letting him cry into my coat. When he finishes, he stands up, hiccuping slightly.

“Don’t tell Miss Barbara I cried,” he says, wiping his face.

“That’s between you, me, and the wallpaper,” I say. “Now go make yourself useful. I’ve got work to do.”

He looks at me for a minute, long enough I should’ve asked him what was wrong, but then he smiles and skips back to the outer office. He’s still hiding something from me, but what it is, I can’t guess. I pull out the feather I’d found at the scene and lay it on my desk. Maybe I can take it to one of my old professors. They might know what kind of creature it belongs to.

I pick up the phone and dial Lieutenant Gordon’s number. Best to put off Selina until later. She can be…engaging.

The desk puts me through to the lieutenant and I’d barely get a chance to say hello when he starts in on me.

“Wayne, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Working on a case, last time I checked. Why? What did I do wrong this time?”

His voice lowers to a hush. “Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to get these deaths investigated? And you just call up to the morgue and get answers?”

“That was your daughter’s doing,” I say.

“That’s another thing,” he says, raising his voice again. “When the hell are you going to let her go?”

“When she says she wants to leave,” I say. “I’m not keeping her here. She stays on of her own accord. Why are you investigating this case?”

“I’m not,” Gordon says. “Not officially. And officially, I can’t sanction you to look into it either.”

“Where’s the heat coming from?”

“Straight from the top. Accidental death and that’s final.”

“Sounds pretty final. But not good enough.”

“Plus, the damn kid’s disappeared,” Gordon says. “We’re looking for him, but you know this city. How are you on this case?”

“An interested party wants to see justice is done,” I say.

“I could have you arrested for withholding evidence,” he says.

“Evidence?” I laugh. “On a case you’re not even investigating? That’s a lot of nerve, lieutenant.”

“Just the same. And don’t go dragging Barbara into this.”

“I don’t put her in my investigations,” I say. “She’s plenty busy with the office work. Goodbye, lieutenant.”

“Be careful, Mr. Wayne. Somebody may have it out for you.”

The line goes dead. He doesn’t know how right he is.


	4. Birds and Cats

I don’t bother phoning Selina. I know where she is.

I tell Barbara I’m going out and to watch the kid. I say I’ll be back before closing, even though we both know that’s a lie. I’ll deal with the kid later.

Selina’s place is only a quick cab ride away. The doorman knows me as I slip into the building; he’s seen me come here enough in nearly every state. Selina’s door is locked, but I have a key, and I let myself in.

Selina is at the bar, making up a couple of cocktails. I don’t drink, as a rule, so they are for her, but the sight of her with a shaker is a beautiful thing. Her cat, Isis, comes up to me, rubbing against my leg and purring. I scoop her up, scratching her behind the ears. I’m one of Selina’s special boyfriends, one the cats like. That’s how she judges men.

Selina pours two drinks, offering me one as a gesture. I never take it; she always offers. It’s one of our little rituals.

“You called,” I say, settling down in a chair with Isis on my lap. “You haven’t called at work in a while.”

“Word gets around fast,” she says. “I hear you’ve been out at the fairgrounds.”

“I might’ve been.”

“What did you find there?”

“Cheap cigar. Dirt.” I pause. “A couple of Metropolis reporters. That was odd.”

Selina looks at me over the rim of her glass. “That *is* odd. What were they doing all the way out here?”

“Taking photos of the scene.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I’m going to call his bluff later, if that’s what you mean.”

I stop petting Isis and pull out the feather. “And I found this at the site. Can you tell me what it is?”

“I’m big on cats, not birds, remember?”

“Just curious.”

Selina leans forward, looking at it closely. I watch her face. In a flash, there is recognition and she physically pales. She sits back.

“You should clear off this case,” she says, sharply.

“What does it mean?” I ask.

“Nothing good. Wherever you found it, you should have left it.”

“Selina,” I says, lowering my register. “What does it mean?”

She stands up and goes to the door. “Something you don’t want to find out.” She opens the door and waits for me to leave. I don’t push her. Selina can be like this sometimes. I let Isis off my lap and stand, tucking the feather back inside my pocket.

She grabs my arm as I leave, her nails digging into my sleeve.

“If you’ve got that kid, he’s in danger. And so are you.”

“From who, Selina?”

She shakes her head. I’m not getting any more out of her tonight. She releases me and I head back downstairs and out to my office. I think about her the whole cab ride back. Selina was scared, and I’ve never seen her really scared, not like that. Whatever this kid has got me into, I have a feeling it is only going to get deeper.


	5. The Court of Owls

I make one more stop on my way back to the office. Tom Grady had been there that day, and if I’m going to get any information about what happened from the audience point of view, it will be from him. I stop off at O’Malley’s, knowing he’ll be there about this time. Hell, he’s probably telling anyone who will listen about it.

Sure enough, there’s a small group gathered around Grady. He’s in the middle of another story, so I slip into the far side of the crowd, outside his field of vision.

“And wouldn’t you know the cops show up right then? I had to get the hell out of there.”

“That’s a fine story, Tom,” I say, clapping one hand on his back. He freezes and so do the guys around him. I’m a pretty big guy, and I know how to use it when I need to. They mutter their “so longs” and go back to their drinks, leaving me and Grady alone.

“What are you tryin’ to do, lose me money?” he asks. “I had them eatin’ out of the palm of my hand.”

“You’ll get more for your troubles with me, you know that,” I say. I sit down beside him. “Tell me about the circus.”

“Which one? Lotta circuses come through here,” he says.

“You know which one. The one with the deaths.”

“Oh, that circus.” He wipes one dark hand against his brow. “I don’t know if I should be talkin’ to you.”

“Talk.”

“Well, you know somethin’ wasn’t right when the mob showed up.”

“When? During the show?”

“Sure, but before that, too. I saw them pull up with the owner before the show, and when they left, he was lookin’ real mad.”

“The owner?”

“Naw, the mob. Then them acrobats fell, and I got me the hell out of there.”

“Did you see the ropes? Anything suspicious about them.”

“I didn’t, but before I went, I heard that kid yellin’, ‘They killed them. They killed them.’”

“The kid acrobat?”

“That’s the one.” He leans in. “Hey, I heard he disappeared. You don’t know where he is, do you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“To me, it’s nothin’. But to you, it might be somethin’. There’s some big people lookin’ out for him.”

“Where’d you hear this?”

He shrugs. “I hear things. I get around.”

“You get around to this?” I ask, pulling out the feather.

Grady’s eyes widen.

“I know what that is, but if you don’t, you better get rid of it,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, putting it away again.

“It’s only rumor, but you know those old stories about Gotham, the ones about the—” He breaks off, lowering his voice to a whisper. “The Court of Owls? Folks used to scare their kids with those stories.”

I shake my head, frowning. “Never heard of them.”

Grady shudders. “Then I’m not gonna be the one to tell you, but trust me. If you found that where I think you found it, that’s bad news.”

“Kids stories and feathers? That’s my bad news?” I ask, incredulously.

Grady shushes me with his hands and lowers his voice again. “You can’t just— Look, so the Court used to run Gotham way back in the day, back when Gotham was still a new city. They decided who got in, who got out, and who never came back. But they died out when the mob moved in and they took over, or that’s what people say. But some say the Court never really died, they just hid, you see?”

I nod. “I think I get the picture.”

“Well, if you’ve got the mob _and_ the Court comin’ around that circus, you’re really in for it.”

“Two separate sides, or working together?” I ask.

He holds up his hands. “That, I don’t know. But you’re probably gonna find out whether I warn you or not.”

“You’re right on that,” I say. I stand and toss down some money. “Thanks for the info. I’ll let you know how it comes out.”

“You won’t have to. I read the obituaries. I’ll see yours come up.”

“Not for a while, you won’t.” I clap his shoulder once and head out. Now it is time to head back to the office. Barbara will be wanting to get home and I have to figure out something to do with the kid. So many people seem to know I have him. I have to hide him somewhere safe and fast. Maybe it’s time to do what I’ve been dreading for all these years.

It’s time to go home.


	6. Going Home

Barbara is still waiting for me at the office, just like I knew she would be. Dick is looking bored and a little sad, which is never a good combination, especially for a kid.

“I’ll take him,” I say, watching Barbara stand up and stretch. “You head home.”

“Anything else you need?” she asks.

“Yeah. Find me everything you can on a Court of Owls. Fact, fiction, I don’t care. Just give me something. And see if you can find out who’s leaning on your old man and who’s leaning on them.”

“Sure. I’ll have that in by tomorrow.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “You will be in tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. Come on, Dick. Time to go.”

For once, the kid looks hesitant.

“Where are we going?”

“Home, kid. Or would you rather I took you to the state home?”

He picks up his bag and hurries around Barbara’s desk to me. “No, sir.”

“Come on.” I let Barbara out, lock up, and head to my waiting car. It’s a block down the street and when you manage to get a space, you don’t leave it until you have to. I go inside and take a deep breath. I know what’s waiting for me back home. Guilt, lots of it. And plenty of reason to stay in the city. But my apartment’s too easy to access and nobody knows the old family ties. I’ve made sure of that.

I put the car into gear and we head out of Gotham proper. The kid looks bored for most of the ride, until we hit Bristol and then he’s sitting up like he’s never seen trees before. Maybe it’s how many of them there are. Maybe he figures I’m kidnapping him. I kind of am.

I pull up to the gate and there it is. Wayne Manor in all its ruined glory. The front is covered in ivy and the lawn looks like it hasn’t been cared for in months. That’s what a Depression will do to an old house like this. But the inside, I know that’s been taken care of. It might be a skeleton crew, but I know one man who’s keeping the house up like it deserves.

I park in the drive and get out. Dick follows, awestruck. Kid’s probably never seen a house this big.

“We’ll find you a room,” I say, just to say something. “You’ll stay here till the investigation’s over.”

He half turns toward me. “I can’t come to work with you?”

“It’s too dangerous for a kid. Besides, I don’t let anyone help on their own case. Things get too personal.”

Dick pouts, but follows me up the stairs without complaint. I knock on the door. I don’t know how long we’ll have to wait out there, or how welcome I’ll be after all these years, but it’s still the best place to go. I have to keep reminding myself of that. This is the only place to go.

The door opens and there stands Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. He’s always been more like an extra family member than a butler when I was growing up, especially after that day. I think I damn near broken his heart when I left.

“Master Bruce? To what do I owe the honor?” he asks, one eyebrow elegantly raised.

I put my hand on Dick’s back. “This is Dick Grayson. He needs a place to stay for a while. A safe place.”

“I see.” He steps aside. “Do come in.”

I push Dick in first and follow behind him. The manor looks how it always has. Maybe a little worse for the wear, considering, but it looks like I’d remembered it.

“If you would take Master Dick to his room, I will start a light supper.”

“Not too light,” I say. “The kid hasn’t eaten much today.”

“I see.” He bows and makes his way to the kitchen. I show Dick up to a room. It had been my old room when I was a kid. The bed is made up and the room looks like it has been dusted recently. I can’t imagine why Alfred would keep coming in here to clean when nobody stays here, but I guess that’s his job.

Dick look around the room in wonder.

“Like it?” I ask.

He nods. “It’s bigger than our trailer.” He stops and looked down at the floor, his eyes filling with tears. “I just couldn’t do it, Mr. Wayne,” he says. “I couldn’t stay with the circus because I couldn’t do the act on my own. But now…did I make a terrible mistake?”

I don’t have any answer for him.

“Sometimes it’s those mistakes you’ve got to live with,” I say. “You made your choice. You can’t go back.” I step forward, reaching out to him. “You sure you want me to find who killed your folks?”

Dick nods.

“I’ll find them. Until then, you have to promise me you won’t go investigating by yourself.”

“I promise.” He looks up at me. “I promise.”

“Good boy,” I say, squeezing his shoulder.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Dick asks.

I hadn’t planned to. “Why?”

“I’ve never been alone before,” he says, looking again like a child. “Would you stay with me?”

“In here?”

“No. Just in the house. I just need to know I’m not alone.”

“You won’t be.” This is getting too sentimental for me. “Let’s see what Alfred’s cooking us.”

He wipes his eyes and follows me downstairs to dinner.


	7. The First Attack

The next morning, I have breakfast with the kid, but make him stay with Alfred when I go back to work. He didn’t look happy about it, but that was just tough. Barbara is already at her desk when I come in, as usual, and she follows me into my office.

“Court of Owls. They’re rumored to have been driven out of Gotham by the mob, but the current talk says they’re still around.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“All right. The Court was made up of Gotham’s richest families. Look through your family history and you might find out more.”

I shoot her a glare. She shrugs it off.

“I’m just saying the Waynes might be more involved than the Gordons would be,” she says, fixing me a level stare. “And speaking of Gordons, it’s coming straight from the commissioner not to investigate the Grayson case. And the only people who lean on the commissioner are the Falcones.”

“Why the hell would Falcone be interested in this? They’re just a couple of acrobats.”

“That’s what I thought, so I went a little deeper. Turns out there was some heat coming in on the circus from one of Falcone’s smaller gangs. Tony Zucco.”

I pull out the cheap cigar I’d found the day before.

“Ever met Zucco?” I ask. Barbara shakes her head. “He smokes these like a diesel engine.”

“So you already knew?”

“I had my suspicions.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why do I bother?”

“Because I like hearing it from you,” I say, smirking. “So Zucco’s leaning on the circus, they don’t bend, and a little while later, two acrobats end up dead.” I frown. “Yeah, but how does the Court fit in?”

“Are you sure it does?”

“This does,” I say, holding up the feather. “I found it at the site. Selina got real skittish when I showed her.”

“Cats don’t get along with birds,” Barbara says. “Maybe she’s had some run-in before.”

“Maybe. I’ll try that angle later.”

The phone rings. Barbara goes back to the outer office to answer it. A moment later, she comes back in.

“Clark Kent of the Daily Planet,” she says. “Metropolis?”

“Maybe he’s got something.” I reach for the phone. “Don’t listen in, huh?”

“Do I ever?” she asks, before heading out. I catch the phone just before she hangs up.

“Kent. What have you got?”

“I got the circus pictures developed. There’s something I think you should see.”

“You going to drive out here?”

“If I have to,” he says. “What’s a good diner in Gotham?”

“This isn’t a date, Kent.”

“Diner’s are the best place for sharing information.”

“Barda’s. Kane and 56th. You can’t miss it.”

“I’ll bring the photos. I think if we pool our knowledge, we can solve this.”

“This accident?”

I can hear his frown. “If it was, you wouldn’t be investigating it. I’ll see you at Barda’s.”

I hang up. It’ll be about an hour for Kent to get here from Metropolis, so I figure I have time. I call Selina. The phone just rings. I check the time. She should be up by now. I’m just about to hang up when I hear a click.

“Selina?”

“Bruce.” Her voice is hoarse, rough.

“Selina. What’s wrong?”

“Help.”

I drop the phone. Selina has never asked for help for as long as I’ve known her. I grab my hat and coat and head out.

“Barbara,” I bark from the doorway. “Get an ambulance over to Selina’s. Now.”

I don’t wait for her nod. I know she will.

I make it to Selina’s in record time, racing in and up the stairs to reach her apartment.

Her door is open. I pull my revolver and enter.

Selina is collapsed by the phone, the receiver still clutched in her hand. The apartment is a wreck, furniture thrown everywhere, torn open. It looks like a tornado had hit the place.

“Selina.” I turn her over, cradling her in my arms. She is bleeding, but I can’t tell from where. Her dress is soaked with it.

“Selina.”

“Bruce.” She opens her eyes. They’re glassy. “They know. I tried… They know it’s you.”

“Don’t talk. Save your strength.” I can hear the ambulance pull up below, sirens wailing away.

“Where are you hurt?”

Her hand moves to her belly. I press mine on top of hers. I notice rough marks around her neck, as if someone had tried strangling her with a cord. I look to the drapes. One of the cords is missing.

“Who did this?”

Selina closes her eyes, going limp in my arms. The ambulance men come into the apartment.

“We’ll take her from here.”

“She’s been stabbed,” I say, showing him where I’m holding my hand. He replaces mine with his quickly.

“We’ll get her to the hospital.”

I stand up and out of their way. While they are busy with her, I look around. There are no cats around, not even Isis. I walk around her apartment, looking for something I hope won’t be there. I find it on the bed. A white feather.

I place it into my coat pocket and emerge to see them carry her out. I give one of them my card and tell them to call when they hear anything. Then I leave. I have a date to keep.


	8. Big Barda's

Kent is already at the diner when I show up.

“Good traffic?” I ask, just for something to say.

“Not bad,” he says. My expression must not be studied enough because he asks, “What happened?”

“Nothing. Another case.”

I sit down across from him. He has a folder of pictures in front of him on the table. I nod to them.

“Show me.”

A waitress comes over. “Know what you want?”

“Coffee, black,” I order. Kent looks at her with the most innocent damn eyes I’ve ever seen.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any apple pie.”

“Sure, honey. One apple pie, one coffee.”

When she’s gone, Kent opens the folder, passing photos to me one by one. “These were from the circus the night of the performance. Jimmy got one right when they fell.”

The photo shows a snapped rope and two people suspended in midair, forever falling.

“Is that what the kid saw?” I ask.

Kent nods. “He was right there on the ground.” He hands me a photo of the kid in the spotlight. He looks lost and alone. I know that look well. I’m feeling it right now all over again.

“These are interesting, but what do you have for me?” I ask, shaking away the images. My parents, gunned down. Selina, covered in blood.

“Jimmy took some before the circus started. Do you recognize this man?”

The photo shows a man exiting a trailer, another, more nervous man behind him.

“Tony Zucco.” I nod. “He’s got someone leaning on the police to keep them from investigating.”

“That’s terrible!”

“It’s Gotham.”

The waitress returns with our order.

“Mind if I keep these?”

“I’ve got the negatives.”

“Thanks.” The coffee isn’t great, but it’s drinkable. Kent digs into his pie the same way a kid might, eagerly and with gusto.

“I want to help you,” he says, after finishing a bite. “That kid’s in a tough spot. I want to help you find whoever killed his parents.”

“So you said. Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says, looking at me incredulously.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. What about you?”

“I’m getting paid.”

“By who? Everyone seems to want this brushed under the rug.”

“That’s my business,” I say.

His eyes narrow behind his glasses. “You’re not taking the kid’s money.”

“As I said, it’s my business.”

“You heartless son of a gun,” he says, looking like he wants to say something stronger. “So you’d really take a kid’s piggy bank for a murder.”

“You don’t have to like it, Kent, but I have a job to do.”

“So do I. Only I do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Then we’re agreed,” I say, finishing the coffee. I stand. “Thanks for the photos. I’ll look them over some more. If there’s anything else, you know where to call.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes are still hard. Attractively so.

I drop some change down to cover the coffee and head back to my office.

Barbara catches me as soon as I came in. “The hospital called.”

“And?”

“Selina’s not well, but she should make it. They’ve got her under observation.”

“Good.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. But it’s all starting to come together.” I show her the second feather and tell her about the mess at Selina’s.

“That makes it sound like we’re all in danger,” Barbara says.

“You’ve got that right. You get home and lock yourself in. I’ll handle the office for a while.” She starts to protest. “No. Do as I say. The last thing I need is you getting hurt and I have to deal with your father. I don’t want to have to solve my own murder.”

She frowns, but packs up her things. “You take care of yourself, too. Whoever they are, they’re playing for keeps.”

“I will.”

I close up the office after her and head to my apartment. I have a hunch what I’ll find there.

My apartment is trashed the same way Selina’s was. A white feather is in the center of the room, laying there innocently among the ruined furniture. I have a feeling I know what they were looking for. Selina had been a warning. This had been a search.

They’re looking for Dick.


	9. Plan of Attack

I speed back to the manor, watching in my mirror for signs of anyone following me. I don’t see anyone the whole way, but I keep watch just in case. When I arrive, the manor looks as normal as it always does.

“Alfred?” I call, entering the hall. “Dick?”

I hear a thumping on the stairs and prepare myself for an attack. Instead, Dick comes sailing down on the banister.

“Hey, Bruce!” he says, excitedly bouncing on his heels. “Did you find out anything more?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Alfred!”

“He’s in the kitchen. I saw your car from my window. It’s a swell room.”

I head into the kitchen, Dick trailing along after me.

“Alfred. Selina Kyle’s been attacked.”

“Heavens! Is she all right?”

“She’ll live. She was a warning.”

“A warning about what?” Dick asks, hopping up onto the counter. Kid can’t stay still. When I was his age, I barely moved.

I look him over. How much do you really tell a kid?

“Somebody’s after you,” I say. “But they’re not going to get you.”

His eyes go wide. “Someone’s out to get me? But why? I didn’t see anything.”

“I’m still working that out. Until then, you’ll stay here.”

“But I can help!”

“How?”

“People underestimate me ‘cause I’m small. But I fight dirty!”

“That’s not good enough, kid.”

He pouts.

“Alfred, keep your shotgun close by. They hit my apartment, too.” I pull out the feathers. “They left these at all the scenes.”

I almost don’t notice the kid go still, but when Alfred’s eyes flick to him, so do mine.

“What is it?”

“The Court of Owls,” Dick whispers.

“What do you know of them?”

“Mom used to tell me stories about them. Why she hated Gotham. She said she’d been picked to give them something, only she wouldn’t, so she ran away and met Dad. She said if anything ever happened to her, I had to hide, especially in Gotham.”

His eyes well up with tears. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Now they’re both gone,” he whispers.

I look up at Alfred, who nods and comes forward.

“I’ve got work to do,” I say to Dick. “I’ll be back by tonight. You’ve got to be strong, OK?”

He nods, not looking up from the floor. Alfred puts a hand on him. I leave. It’s time I see Zucco.


	10. Face Off

Zucco isn’t a hard man to find if you know where to look. And I know exactly where to look.

He runs his trucking business out of the lower end of the business district. He keeps his office there and if I know him, he’ll be there waiting.

I pull up around the block, not wanting his goons to know what car I drive, and walk the block to his garage.

“Here to see Tony Zucco,” I say to the big guard out front.

“Who’s he to you?”

“My uncle,” I say. “Let me in.”

“No chance, bub. Hit the road.”

“Tell him it’s in his best interest to see me. Monetary interest.”

The goon goes in and tells him, and that must work because he comes out a minute later and holds the door open for me. The garage is stale with the smell of oil, gasoline, and cheap cigars like the one I’d found at the fairgrounds. If I’d had any doubts, I don’t now.

“So what can you do for me?” he asks. “What good’s a private dick to me?”

“I know where the kid is,” I say.

“You got him?”

“I said I know where he is. What’s it to me if you want him? Got a thing for kids, Zucco?”

I flick my eyes to the gunsel behind him, a young guy barely into his twenties I’d guess.

Zucco lets out a smoker’s laugh. “We’re just small cogs, Wayne. You don’t even know how small.”

“Small enough you’d risk Falcone knowing you worked with the Court?”

A hush falls over the room. A couple of goons reach into their suit coats for their guns. Zucco glares.

“This is bigger than Falcone. If he can’t see it, that’s his problem.”

“If he does see it, it might be your problem.” I shrug and turn my back. “I know where the kid is. You want him, give me a reason to stay.”

“Fuck you, Wayne,” Zucco shouts.

I whip around. “You killed that kid’s parents. Don’t think I’m not gunning for you, Zucco. I’m letting you off now because I’ve got bigger fish. But when I come back, you better be ready.”

Zucco’s sweating and not because of the heat of the garage.

“Beat it, Wayne!”

I turn away, walking out without incident. I’m nearly back to my car when I see something under my wiper. A white feather. And a note.

*Apex Warehouse. Tomorrow. Midnight.*

I know where my next assignment is. But first, I need sleep and a plan. The plan I can formulate on the way back to the Manor. The sleep will have to come later. I have a favor to call in.


	11. Fight

“You’re not coming,” I say.

Dick snorts in frustration. “I am coming! It’s me they want. We could trap them this way. I’ll go in alone, you’ll be my backup if things go wrong.”

“Things will go wrong and you’re not coming. And that’s final.”

Dick glares at me. I glare back.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “You do need backup.”

“I’ve got it,” I say. “And it’s not you.” I look at Dick. “You’re staying here.”

I turn to Alfred and Dick storms off. “I need you to call Barbara. Tell her to go to the hospital and watch over Selina. I don’t think they’ll try again, but I need to know how she’s doing. Then call Gordon and see if he can get any kind of squad over to the warehouse at midnight. If not, at least tell him to put a couple of guys on Selina’s room.”

I look to where Dick had stormed out.

“He’s suffering,” Alfred says.

“I know. I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know, sir. Be safe. Or at least be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got backup.”

I head out. My hands begin to sweat on the wheel as I think about what’s coming. How much of the Court am I going to be facing? Whoever they send, they’ll be brutal. I saw that with Selina. She’s tough when she has to be, and it’s hard to overpower her. Will there be two, three? More?

I just hope Kent is as strong as he looks. Otherwise I’ve put my fate into the hands of someone useless.

I park by the warehouse. They already know my car, and I want a speedy getaway in case I need one. I walk around. Five till midnight. I still have time. I think I see something in the window of my car when I hear footsteps behind me.

Kent.

“Where’d you come from?”

“I parked around the corner,” he says. “You sure about this?”

“It’s the only way. You want to find out what happened to the kid, I want to find this Court of Owls.”

“Why’d you bring him?” Kent asks.

“I didn’t.”

He points behind me. I turn. The back door of my car is open.

“Son of a—” I run to the car, but of course, he isn’t there anymore.

“When did you see him?” I snap at Kent.

“I just saw him for a second when he ran out.”

“Dammit!”

I motion for Kent to follow me, and draw my revolver. We’re early, but Dick forced our hand. No time to wait for reinforcements.

“What do you want?” I hear Dick call to the empty warehouse. We stay in the shadows, watching.

“If you want to kill me, I’m here. Do your worst!”

He sounds older than his years, and like a kid at the same time.

“Can you hear me?” he yells. “I’m right here!”

I step out of the shadows. Dick jumps.

“Bruce.”

“Kid, you’ve got to get out of here.”

“I—”

Something swoops down from the rafters above and lands behind Dick, one arm wrapping around him.

“The Court has ordered me to take you, Talon.”

Dick struggles. “Let go of me!”

I take aim. “Let him go.”

The person looks at me. “Bruce Wayne. The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

Another one drops down in front of us, blocking our path to Dick.

“Kent, I’ll take this one. You get Dick.”

I aim and shoot out the man’s kneecap. I don’t like guns, but I’m a good shot. The man’s leg buckles and he goes down. Kent takes that opportunity to run headlong into the other man. I see the flash of a blade and nearly call out a warning when something sharp strikes my shoulder.

The blade had been meant for me.

I look down at the person in front of me. He’s pulling out another blade. He isn’t bleeding, but he can’t stand on his leg. I shoot out the other knee and he collapses to the ground, inching his way toward me. I pull the blade out of my shoulder. This must be what they used on Selina.

Kent is busy with the other one, but I can’t see Dick. Looking for him cost me precious seconds as another blade hits me in the chest. I stagger back, clutching the blade. I pull it out. A lot of blood. I raise my gun again when Dick comes flying out of nowhere. He land on the back of my attacker, grabbing one of his blades and stabbing him in the neck. Again, there is no blood, but it seems to put him out of commission. I run forward and grab Dick. The kid doesn’t need to become a killer; I could see the rage in his eyes.

“Kent!” I shout. “Fall back.”

He turns to look at me, one arm still going into a punch. He hits the guy’s head with such force I swear I hear a snap. He is with us an instant later, one arm around me as if to escort us out of the building. Dick is watching behind us as we run. He shouts something and Kent pushes us aside and out the door. He falls out of the doorway behind us, slamming it shut after him.

“Get to your car,” he says, holding the door shut. Dick runs and opens the doors. I follow, a little slower. I start the engine and start to move when Kent runs up to us, leaping into the backseat with a grace I didn’t expect from a guy that big. I speed away.

Dick looks at me with wide eyes. “You’re hurt!”

“Yep.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Not all of it.”

He sits back in his seat. Kent leans forward and squeezes his shoulder.

“I saw how you defended Mr. Wayne. That was very brave of you, Dick.”

“Thanks, Mister…?”

“Clark Kent. Call me Clark.”

“Thanks, Clark.” I can see his smile in the mirror.

“Sorry about your car, Kent, but you’re coming with us for a minute.”

“Oh that’s fine,” he says, too affable.

“Where are we going?” Dick asks. “Home?”

“The manor? Yes.”

“That’s home now.”

“Don’t get too used to it.”

I feel Kent’s glare from the back seat. Dick is silent all the way back.

Alfred is waiting for us with medical supplies. He gently scolds Dick, less than I had, and greets Kent civilly. I strip out of my coat and let Alfred tend to my wounds. They’re deep enough to sting. They’ll take a while to heal.

“Dick,” I say, after Alfred has patched me up. “Come here.”

He walks over to me, his eyes lowered. I put my hand on his shoulder. “You did good back there. You saved my life.”

He looks up at me, eyes wide.

“I wish you had stayed here, but I’m glad you were there.”

He smiles up at me, then hugs me. I wince, but let him hug. I even hug him back. I’m always too soft on kids.

“Go to bed, Dick. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

He nodded, smiling. “Goodnight, Bruce. Goodnight, Clark.”

“Goodnight, Dick,” Kent says. Dick heads upstairs. Once he’s out of sight, I relax, letting my wounds hurt.

“You’re hurt bad?” Kent asks.

“Nothing I won’t heal from.” I look him over. “What about you?”

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me.”

I don’t believe it, but the painkillers are kicking in, so I don’t care. “Want to stay the night?”

“If it’s not putting you out.”

“Look at this place. You think you could put me out here?”

“I guess not.” He smiles. It’s a nice smile. The kind you could get used to.

“You know, you’re not as bad as you first seem,” Kent says. I don’t know how to take that.

“Alfred will show you to your room.”

Alfred bows and leads him upstairs. There’s a hole in his shirt, big enough to have been caused by the blades, but there’s no blood. I make a note of that. A few minutes later, Alfred returns.

“Miss Gordon called earlier. Miss Kyle has regained consciousness.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Did anyone come calling?”

“Not to her, but Lieutenant Gordon said he couldn’t bring you men. I presume you knew that already.”

“I guessed.”

“Now, you need sleep.”

“I need to write up what I’ve learned.”

“No, sir. You’ll sleep first.” Alfred touches my wounded shoulder and I wince.

“All right, all right. I’ll sleep first.”

I make it up to my room to find myself not alone. Dick is curled up in the middle of my bed, sound asleep.

I shuck off my shirt and climb into my pajama bottoms. Dick doesn’t move when I get in. As I settle, he curls up next to me. I wrap my good arm around him, and soon fall asleep.


	12. Case Closed

Dick and I are in my office when I hear the outer door open. Barbara wasn’t in when we got in, which is rare for her. I figure it’s she sneaking in after a long night. A knock comes at my office door.

“Come in, Barbara.”

The door open and in comes Selina, being wheeled in by Barbara. Selina looks paler than usual, but her eyes are bright just the same. I stand and make my way over to her.

“Selina.”

She holds up a hand. I kiss it, squeezing it tightly.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“Wrung out,” she says. “Did you get them?”

“We got them. I don’t think they’ll be bothering us any time soon.”

“Good. Bastards.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dick staring at Selina. “This is Dick. Selina. Dick’s the son of the acrobats.”

“Hi, Miss Selina,” Dick says, coming forward.

She shakes his hand. “I don’t always look like this,” she says. “I’ve been indisposed.”

“It was because of me, wasn’t it?” Dick asks.

“No, Dick,” I say. “They would’ve gone after anyone close to me. They didn’t like that I was investigating them.”

Dick nods, but I can tell he’s still not fully convinced.

“So now that this case is over,” Barbara says. “Where is Dick going to live?”

I look to Dick. He looks at me with hopeful eyes.

“Well, the manor always has room,” I say. Dick beams. “I’ve got to set up my apartment again. It got trashed. And I’ll fix up yours, Selina.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll help,” Dick says, clearly eager to please.

The phone rings. Barbara goes out to answer it.

“We’ll clean it up today, Selina, so you won’t have to stay another night in the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t dream of going back there.”

Barbara returns. “Telephone call for you. New guy at the morgue. Seems somebody rubbed out Tony Zucco.”

I pick up the phone. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

Dick looks around at us. “Who’s Tony Zucco?”

“You’re a dead man, Wayne,” the voice on the phone hisses. “When I find you, you’re dead.”

“Who is this?”

“Someone who knew Zucco. You better watch your back.”

“You watch yours. Go cry to Falcone. I didn’t have anything to do with Zucco’s death.”

“You’d better believe I will. This isn’t over.”

“It is now.” I hang up. Barbara looks at me curiously.

“Wasn’t the morgue,” I said. “Someone’s upset over Zucco’s death.”

“Who is he?” Dick asks again.

“Tony Zucco was responsible for killing your parents.”

Dick’s face crumples. He presses his lips together and looks down. When he looks up again, his eyes are steel.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Dick says. And I can’t really blame him.

“Come on,” I say, standing. “Let’s help a lady in distress.” I turn Selina’s chair around and wheel her out, Dick following behind me.

“If anyone needs me, you know where to find me,” I say to Barbara.

“You got it, boss.”

We’re getting in the car when Dick asks, “Do you think the Court will come after me again?”

I shrug. “Who knows? But we’ll be ready for them when they do.”

Dick nods. “One day, we’ll take them down for good.”

“We?”

“I’m your partner now, right?” he asks.

Selina laughs.

“Oh, no,” I say. “You’re going to have to grow up a bit before you can be a partner.”

“OK, so in a couple years, maybe. You’ll have to train me.”

I look to Selina. “You want a kid?”

She shakes her head. “This is all on you, Bruce.”

It looks like I’ll be living in the manor again. And this time, it won’t be so empty.


End file.
